Aftermath
by Winter Ruth
Summary: Post 3.10. Ruth and Harry try to comfort each other in the aftermath of Danny's death.
1. Chapter 1

Ruth was drawing into herself, Harry thought.

He observed her from across the yard. She was seated on the grey stone steps of the old house, gaze unfocused, arms wrapped across her body. A still point, as everyone around her was beginning to disperse. Blue tape cordoned the area off, awaiting later forensics. The ambulance had long before carried away the body.

"I've found us a car," Harry stood above her.

"Right," said Ruth, watery eyes flickering up to his briefly.

As those eyes caught the light, he again thought how beautiful she was, in her sorrow. Not a hardened old spook like him, she was drowning in her mourning. Poor girl.

She rubbed her hands across her face as she rose.

"Come on," Harry murmured, guiding her by the shoulder.

"How'd you manage it?" Ruth nodded to Harry's car.

"Perks of being the boss. Let me," he said, hands moving to the lapels of her white coat.

Ruth's breath caught as he gently ran his hands under the material and slipped her coat off with all the agile charm of the known womaniser he was. Her eyes flickered up to his again, and she was briefly caught. His ruddy skin, honeyed eyes, his strawberry blonde hair, his strong jaw… she admired everything about him, right down to his plump, wide lips. Lips which were now quirking a small smile at her.

She dropped his gaze and turned. This, of all times, to be having wistful thoughts about a man who wouldn't even look at her twice. Ruth's stomach twisted. A wave of guilt washed over her.

Harry slipped off his heavy black coat, too, and placed in on the backseat, over her white one.

Harry pulled the car out onto the road. Ruth sat quietly, watching the countryside turn to blur as he sped up. Grey skies and green fields carried on for miles. They were well out of London, with not a soul to be seen.

After a while, Harry noticed she was running her hands over her knuckles roughly, roughly… rougher still.

"Hey, stop that," he said, placing one of his hands over hers.

Ruth burst into tears.

He immediately pulled the car into a small lane off the main road, amidst a rolling paddock. Engine off, Harry unbuckled his seat belt, and leant towards her. Somewhat awkwardly, he placed his hand on her upper arm, and begun to rub.

"Hey… there, there…" he soothed.

Ruth wiped her tears and turned to him, face splotched white and red.

"I can't help thinking. What I could have done…" she choked.

"I was the one who didn't listen to you when Adam had been taken."

Ruth shook her head, "You did, though."

"After taking the time to threaten you with a trip back to GCHQ."

"Not just a trip!"

"No," Harry's eyebrows quirked, "I suppose not."

They quieted. Harry continued to rub Ruth's arm.

"It's all my fault," Ruth said, voice steely.

"No, it isn't," Harry vowed.

"It is. Harry… You don't know."

"What don't I know, Ruth?"

"I-I… goaded him into it. I did. When he rescued me, that time… I told him to promise me, he'd never end up as… as broken, as selfish… Something stupid like that. But he should have been," Ruth admitted, gazing out into the paddock.

"You've never lost a colleague before. I didn't realise," he answered.

"Oh, is that what it is," snapped Ruth, turning her anger on Harry. "Don't bloody patronise me."

"Then don't be so bloody ridiculous!" Harry snapped back.

"Fuck you," Ruth said quietly, arms crossing.

They were silent.

"I just meant… Blaming yourself is a normal reaction, Ruth. But you have to turn it off. You'll learn to, after you've been in this business a bit longer."

"Is that what you do?" Ruth asked.

"Yes."

"You lost a lot of people, in Northern Ireland, and Berlin, and…"

"And here. Yes," Harry cut her off, "I'm the boss, Ruth. Along with cars, come other perks. It was my call. Danny's blood is on my hands."

"But can you really turn it off?" Ruth whispered, voice breaking.

"I learnt to."

"How?"

"The usual ways. Sex. Drink. More work."

"Is that what you were doing back there, then? Ordering everyone around. I watched you choreographing everything. The clean up."

"That was me trying."

"It didn't work?"

"A little. Not completely… I had to, Ruth. I had to… do the job."

"And now what?"

Harry shrugged.

"We could help each other," Ruth murmured, hand sliding onto Harry's thigh.

His mouth slid open. She boldly held his gaze.

"You could help me." Ruth's voice took on a plaintive note.

"Ruth…" Harry breathed, as her hand moved higher.

He shook his head.

Ruth calmly leant back against the glass of the side window. She opened her shoulders and exposed the white of her neck. Harry's eyes caressed her. She was heavy lidded, lips flushed red. Chest heaving.

"I'm not some… naïve little girl…you need to protect."

Her lips caressed the words. Harry groaned and then pounced.

Their first kiss was rough and wet, and desperately alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry leant over Ruth as he kissed her hard, the bulk of him pushing her against the window. She matched his ardour. They met opened mouthed, hot and deep.

Frustrated at the space still between them, he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her closer to him. Ruth groaned into his mouth, her skin tingling at the contact. Harry's cock throbbed painfully in his trousers. He paused to look at her.

Her eyes were screwed shut as she reclined against the windowpane, panting. Her pelvis was titled towards him, legs splayed open wantonly. She was yielding to him, he thought to himself. There was no time to think of the consequences of this. He ran a hand down over her long skirt and up under again, pressing his advantage.

Ruth gasped at the feel of his large hands caressing her thigh. Her eyes open to find Harry's intense gaze drinking her in. She watched him lick his lips as he took in her open mouth and heaving chest. Before she knew it, his fingers were brushing against her knickers.

"Ah," she cried, as he roughly thrust two fingers inside her. The angle awkward, it was at the sharp divide between pleasure and pain.

Harry thrust again, and again. "Ah," she cried, "Fuck, Harry."

"That's the second time today you've told me to fuck off, Ruth. Where's my sweet flower gone? My shy little analyst?" he smirked, voice low and thick.

"I told you," Ruth glared, "I'm not naïve. And I'm not… shy, either."

Harry's eyes twinkled as if he didn't quite believe her.

Ruth pushed his hand away and climbed over to straddle him in the driver's seat. She sat back tantalisingly on his knees as Harry grabbed the lever to shift the seat back as far as it could go. His eyes were drawn to her white hands as she hiked her skirt up and kneeled awkwardly to pull her knickers down.

"Oof," said Ruth, as Harry pulled her back down onto his lap, this time so the warmth between her legs met his hardness. He groaned at the contact, nearly losing it as her scent filled his senses, the scent of a hot, wet woman.

Ruth arched her neck, pressing into him as he bucked against her. "Mmm," she moaned to encourage him.

"Rock against me," Harry muttered, grabbing her bottom and guiding her. "Yes."

"Ah," she gasped, grabbing a handful of his hair.

Harry kissed her again.

Neither had a care that it was daylight still, and they were in Harry's car in the middle of a field where anyone could drive by.

"Now, Harry," said Ruth, lips ghosting across his cheek, "Take me."

Harry groaned, hands fumbling for his zipper. His cock sprang proudly out, nestling between his Savile Row suit and her bunched up skirt. Much like the man, it was hard and thick and flushed pink with arousal.

He grabbed it by the base as Ruth perched above it. Harry penetrated her slowly, marvelling in the exquisite bliss of finally having the woman he had lusted over for two years. There was no time to think of the consequences. They both wanted this, and that would have to be enough. His shoulder muffled Ruth's wail.

Harry began a slow rhythm, thrusting up into her as she held tightly to his neck.

"How's that?" he panted, twisting his pelvis.

"Oh," she cried, head still buried against him.

But it wasn't enough. She could still think, think about the things that had happened before and the things that would happen after.

"Do it… harder, Harry. Harder."

He started to thrust in earnest.

"More. Harder."

Harry thrust harder and harder into her tight warmth, until he felt he must have been hurting her.

"Harder," she still cried as she came.

It felt exquisite. Harry found himself losing it sooner then he'd thought, quickly trying to pull himself out as he spurted inside her, the rest spilling onto her skirt.

"Shit, shit," Harry said, "I didn't meant to… I think I got some in you."

But there was no answer.

"Ruth?"

She was crying against his shoulder, he realised. Deep, bone racking sobs.

"Ruth, did I… did I hurt you?" Harry swallowed.

She kept crying, her tears chilling his skin. She was becoming hysterical. Harry begun to wonder if he had made the wrong decision, if he had taken advantage of a cherished female colleague under his command in her grief. But she had said she didn't need protecting, and he had stopped thinking with his head.

"I-I'm sorry," he said softly, "I should have realised, you wouldn't want…"

"-Don't, Harry," Ruth cut him off, finally lifting her head, so he could see her red rimmed eyes, glowing with anger.

"You said-"

"Just don't! Just take me home," she cried, scrambling off him.


End file.
